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Jacob Rosenberg
Poems
Jan 2019
Blind
its late
my chest grows cold
where your head used to rest
time fades on
as my heart follows suit to my skin
I've almost forgotten your lips
and the way that you taste
curious what can happen during a single waxing and waning of the moon
for fear of empty words I stay silent
waiting on you
though I miss you dearly
I understand fully
hurry home my love
this bed is meant to be shared
Written by
Jacob Rosenberg
21/M/Spokane
(21/M/Spokane)
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